


Temporary Reprieve

by jaylie12



Series: Catching Time [6]
Category: Glee, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Staine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:22:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22519186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaylie12/pseuds/jaylie12
Summary: Steve is unsure, Blaine isn't.  Angsty fluff (or fluffy angst).  Sequel to Temporal Exigency.  (Originally written in 2013.)
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Steve Rogers, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Series: Catching Time [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1615039
Kudos: 7





	Temporary Reprieve

**Author's Note:**

> This turned into quite a lengthy piece, because the Steve angst apparently knows no bounds. But also, I couldn’t help the little moments of domesticity and care these two must exhibit in spades. Or throwing in a song or two (Everything by Michael Buble and I Know You By Heart by Bette Midler).

“We’re running off good old-fashioned electricity for the time being,” Bruce said.

“And the clean-up?” Steve asked.

“Fury’s coordinating with the National Guard. Clint and Natasha are helping. Crews in the tower are fixing the rest of the elevators and reconstructing the stairs. Most of the windows have already been replaced."

“I should get down there.”

“You should stay here,” Bruce countered, moving toward the dining table. Steve followed.

“Doctor, I go where I’m needed.”

“You’re needed here,” Bruce said, looking up from where he was setting the bag of take-out and his kit on the table.

“Blaine’s not going to need me," Steve said quietly, eyes focused on table. "He's not going to want me now that he knows the truth."

"Steve," Bruce prefaced. Steve gripped the back of a chair and ignored Bruce's gaze. He continued after a beat, "You love him.”

Steve looked up, tension etched in his features. And still, his answer was clear on his face.

“Then be what he needs,” Bruce said simply.

“He doesn’t need me," Steve repeated angrily. "He doesn’t need someone who runs off and fights aliens, who lets him get hurt, who can’t protect him.”

“From what I heard and saw, he can take care of himself,” Bruce pointed out.

"He plays music, doc," Steve continued, pushing away from the chair. "He lives music. How's he supposed to do that now?"

"His burns, the broken bones--they will heal," Bruce said kindly, patiently.

"But that's not all that got hurt," Steve protested sadly. "You didn’t see him this morning.”

“I didn't," Bruce acknowledged, "but that's all the more reason for you to be here.”

“I’m not like you, Doctor. Take away the Hulk and you’re still a brilliant scientist. Same with Stark. Clint? Natasha? Their skills are their own, not fabricated. I’m nothing without the serum.”

“The serum may have provided the brawn, but you already had the brains and heart." Bruce laid a reassuring hand on Steve's shoulder. "Blaine didn’t fall in love with Captain America, he fell in love with you.”

.....

Blaine woke slowly, dim light slipping past his eyelids as awareness returned. His body protested, muscles sore and limbs heavy. His fingers ached, the skin feeling tight and pricking with pain as he flexed them. When cool softness, rather than Steve's warmth, reached his senses, Blaine opened his eyes. He had to blink away the dull blurriness before his bandaged hand came into view, fingers resting curled around a rolled up cloth. Blaine lifted his head from the pillow, confused, and looked around. He gingerly picked up the cloth, letting it fall open, and recognized one of Steve's cotton undershirts. Blaine smiled fondly, his lips twitching amusedly when he realized his other hand also lay atop a rolled up t-shirt. He rolled over, sighing.

Quiet voices had the smile fading and his breath catching. Most of the words eluded him, but Steve's tortured tone could not. Blaine ignored the pain as he sat up, ignored the sharp pang in his hands as he pushed off the bed and went in search of clothing. 

Blaine slid out of the bedroom, gently smoothing the plaid shirt and thankful it covered enough when his eyes fell on his bags still lying on the floor by the table. But his attention quickly fell to Steve sitting hunched, elbows propped on the table, and head hanging. Bruce stood next to him, a comforting hand on his forearm.

“Hello, Doctor Banner,” Blaine said quietly, stepping closer. Steve straightened, the anguish on his face disappearing the instant his eyes fell on Blaine's. But in another instant, Steve's eyes faltered and he looked away. Blaine bit his lip, stifling his anxiety. Bruce offered a smile.

“Call me Bruce, please. How are you feeling?”

“Sore, but okay,” Blaine answered truthfully.

"I told Dr. Warren I’d make a house call.” Bruce tapped the medical kit on the table. Blaine sat on Bruce's other side, gaze flickering to Steve's still downcast eyes. "And I thought you could use some dinner."

"Thanks," Blaine said sincerely. Bruce nodded, and then gestured to Blaine's hands. Blaine set them on the table, palms up, allowing Bruce to unwrap them and examine his burns. He winced when Bruce nudged his broken fingers, noticing the flicker of worry in Steve's eyes before they returned to the table.

"Sorry," Bruce murmured, attention focused on cleaning the charred skin and reapplying the antibiotic ointment.

The three men were quiet as he worked, Blaine's eyes steady on Steve's face despite the other man's refusal to meet his gaze. When Bruce finished his treatment, he replaced the medical equipment in the case and clicked it shut.

"Dr. Warren's going to want to see you one more time before she lets you loose."

Blaine nodded.

"Eat. Drink something. You're still dehydrated. You been taking your pain pills?"

"He had them at noon," Steve spoke up before Blaine could answer. Their eyes met briefly, Blaine's startled and Steve's fleeting.

"Good. Take them again before you go to sleep, okay?"

"I will," Blaine promised. Bruce stood, the other two men following suit.

"Like two peas in a pod," Bruce muttered amusedly with a shake of his head. Blaine managed a small, pleased smile. Steve followed Bruce to the door, quietly thanked him, and said goodbye.

"We should eat," Steve said as he returned to the table and unpacked the take-out boxes. Blaine slid back into his seat, silently watching Steve open each box and peer at its contents before setting it on the table. Steve tore apart the wooden chopsticks and set them on napkins before sliding them in front of Blaine, his eyes never leaving his task. Blaine reached out, grazing his bandaged fingers across Steve's knuckles as he retreated. Steve paused and looked up.

"I don't remember that," Blaine said, "taking the pills."

Steve swallowed before explaining, "You were restless and I couldn't--. You were tired."

"Thank you."

The tension on Steve's expression lessened, and he sat, pointing his chopsticks at the box in front of Blaine.

"Eat," he ordered gently. Blaine did as told, the smell of Chinese food igniting his hunger, and picked up his chopsticks, flinching at the pain. He ate slowly, careful to hold his utensils as delicately as possible. So focused on his task, he did not notice Steve watching him.

"Blaine," Steve said after several quiet moments, arm extended.

"Hmm?" Blaine asked, even though he was already reaching for Steve. Steve grasped Blaine's wrist, tugging him off the chair and into his lap. He set Blaine's hands in his lap and reached across the table to pull all the food closer.

When Blaine realized what Steve was doing, he said petulantly, "I'm not a child."

"I know," Steve replied simply, spearing a rather large piece of broccoli with his chopsticks.

"I can feed myself," Blaine argued. Steve dropped the chopsticks back into the box and wrapped his arms around Blaine.

"I know," Steve repeated slowly, kissing Blaine's plaid-covered shoulder and resting his cheek there. "Please let me?"

Blaine nudged Steve's chin up with the back of his hand, blue eyes meeting his filled with sadness--sadness he had not seen since the early days of their relationship when Steve would quickly cover it up and Blaine would try so very hard to make him smile. Blaine slid the backs of his bandaged fingers along Steve's jaw and cheek, causing Steve's eyes to close and a sigh to escape his lips. Blaine ghosted gauze-covered fingertips over Steve's temple and brushed at the hair on his forehead.

"I'm not going anywhere," Blaine whispered, lips dragging against Steve's temple.

"You should," came the resigned reply, though the arms around Blaine tightened.

"Well, I'm not," Blaine countered.

When Steve remained silent, Blaine kissed his temple, the corner of his still closed eye, his cheek, and jaw. Blaine brushed his lips against Steve's, hovering so close but not close enough. Steve huffed at the tease, moving that last little distance so their lips pressed firmly together. Blaine smiled when Steve tilted his head, and kissed back when Steve's lips parted eagerly.

Blaine pulled away slowly, nipping at Steve's lower lip before tipping his forehead against Steve's. He blinked his eyes open, again ghosting his fingertips along Steve's hairline.

"You know," Blaine teased as he wrapped his arms around Steve's neck and pressed their cheeks together, "just because I can't play my guitar or the piano right now, doesn't mean I can't make music." Before Steve could respond, Blaine was singing softly in his ear.

_In this crazy life, and through these crazy times  
It's you, it's you,  
You make me sing.  
You're every line, you're every word, you're every note._

Steve pressed his face against Blaine's shoulder, letting Blaine's smooth tenor calm him as it always did, and turned his head so his ear caught the deep reverberations in Blaine's chest.

_And you play it cool, but it's kinda cute.  
When you smile at me you know exactly what you do.  
Baby, don't pretend, that you don't know it's true.  
Cause you can see it when I look at you._

Steve couldn't stifle his chuckle at the words, and at Blaine's playful tug of his hair at the back of his neck. Blaine took up the slow, lilting melody again.

_You're a carousel, you're a wishing well,  
And you light me up, when you ring my bell.  
And I can't believe, that I'm your man,  
And I get to kiss you baby just because I can._

Blaine pressed a sweet kiss to Steve's hair before tipping Steve's head up until their eyes met.

_And in this crazy life, and through these crazy times  
It's you, it's you,  
You make me sing.  
You're every line, you're every word, you're every note._

The last words were spoken more than sung, and they hung between them for a long moment. Blaine had skipped some of the lyrics and changed others, knowing Steve would not know the song, but that didn't stop the words from wanting to come out, didn't stop Blaine from wanting to tell Steve he was everything. But from the little he had overheard, Blaine knew Steve would not be so easily convinced, especially right now.

Blaine broke eye contact first, reaching up and pressing a kiss to Steve's forehead.

"I'm not going anywhere, okay?"

Steve nodded, voice and breath caught in his lungs. Blaine pulled him back in, letting Steve settle his head in the space between neck and shoulder, and hold Blaine a little too tight.

*

"Can we eat now?" Blaine asked tentatively, though he could not contain the hint of teasing in his tone. Steve laughed, shifting so his forehead rested on Blaine's shoulder. He took a deep breath before lifting his head.

"Yes," Steve agreed, taking up the abandoned chopsticks. Blaine took the offered food, chewing and swallowing slowly as Steve watched him intently.

"We're not going to get a lot of eating done if you keep looking at me like that," Blaine commented.

Steve turned his attention back to the food, chagrined, and Blaine had to lean in to kiss his cheek before taking the bite Steve offered him. This time, Steve retrieved a bite for himself. They finished two of the boxes taking turns, and Blaine pulled another toward them. The noodles proved much more a challenge, and Steve had dropped more than reached their mouths by the time he frustratingly stabbed the chopsticks into the half-filled container.

"Don't be upset," Blaine advised as Steve frowned at the food. Steve looked at him, expecting Blaine's amused expression but rather spying Blaine's tongue licking along his lips. Steve surged forward, lips finding Blaine's quickly and tongue darting out to taste. Blaine's startled noise turned into a moan when Steve's tongue slipped between his lips and twined with his.

Steve licked at Blaine's teeth, nipped at his full lips, and teased Blaine's tongue into his mouth only to suck hungrily at the warm flesh. Blaine whimpered, hands gripping the arms that held him close and shifting on Steve's lap to press more fully against him, and felt the hardness under his thigh.

"Still hungry?" Steve asked breathlessly between kisses.

"Not for food," Blaine retorted, his own lips dragging across the stubble on Steve's cheek before retreating to Steve's mouth. Steve's hand slid down his back and over his hip, stopping when fabric gave way to the cool skin of Blaine's thigh. He slid his hand back up, under the plaid, and traced his fingers along the edge of Blaine's underwear, eliciting another whimper from Blaine followed by a pained gasp when his grip on Steve's shoulder tightened.

"What's wrong?" Steve asked, immediately pulling away. Blaine whined at the retreat, lips trailing kisses along Steve's jaw and hands fumbling for his. When Steve resisted, Blaine sighed and sat back. "Blaine?"

"My hands still hurt," Blaine revealed. Steve hummed understandingly and reached across the table for the two bottles of water he had set out with the food.

"Water and pills, then," Steve said.

"But--."

"No," Steve cut in, "Bruce said you were still dehydrated."

"I know, but we were--," Blaine trailed off, waving his hand between them.

"We're still going to do that."

"We are?" Blaine asked hopefully. Steve's lips twitched up in a small smile. Blaine smiled back and rested the back of his hand on Steve's jaw. "I missed that," he said fondly.

"I missed you," Steve tossed back. "And yes, we are." With that, Steve laid the two bottles in Blaine's lap and hauled him up, carrying him swiftly to the bedroom as Blaine yelped and laughed and held on.

*

Blaine slowly drank his water as he watched Steve undress, his khakis and undershirt easily divested. When he crawled onto the bed and propped himself up with an elbow by Blaine's side, Blaine reached out to stroke the bandage taped low on Steve's side.

"How are you?" Blaine asked concernedly.

"Just a graze," Steve said idly, fingers toying with the buttons on the plaid shirt still covering Blaine's chest. "It's already healing," he added when his gaze flicked back up to Blaine's still worried eyes.

Steve took the empty water bottle from Blaine and set it on the nightstand, beside the lube and condoms Steve had already retrieved from the drawer, and came back to Blaine to work the last of the buttons undone. Together, they pulled the shirt off Blaine's shoulders and arms, carefully avoiding the bandages on his hands. Steve prodded Blaine to settle on his back and straddled his hips, kissing him lightly on the lips before moving along his jaw to nip at his ear.

Blaine lifted his arms, wanting to pull Steve closer, but Steve was quicker. He wrapped his fingers around Blaine's forearms and pressed them to the mattress, continuing to kiss and lick at the sensitive flesh below Blaine's ear.

"Steve," Blaine complained, not even bothering to struggle against Steve's strength.

"No touching," Steve murmured, lips pressing kisses down Blaine's neck. Blaine turned his head with a sigh, skin tingling in the wake of Steve's lips and sending arousal through him.

"Steve," Blaine whined again.

"Shhh," Steve hushed with a kiss. Steve soothed Blaine's arms to his side, palms up, and stroked his own palms and fingers over Blaine's skin until his fingers loosely cuffed Blaine's wrists, thumbs sliding back and forth over the tendon there.

Blaine relaxed under Steve's ministrations, swallowing slowly at Steve's steady gaze. He leaned closer, pressing a kiss to Blaine's wrist and trailing his lips up Blaine's arm in gentle kisses. Steve moved to Blaine's other arm, kissing another path up the limb, over his shoulder, and along his collarbone.

"Steve," Blaine prodded.

"Hmm?" Steve inquired, lips and tongue working at the dip between neck and bone.

"Kiss me," Blaine pled breathlessly.

Steve lifted his head, looked at Blaine's chest rising and falling out of rhythm and at Blaine's dark, pleading eyes. Keeping his hands around Blaine's wrists, Steve leaned up and did as directed. Blaine craned his neck to meet him, pressing his lips hard against Steve's urgently. But Steve pulled back quickly, ignoring Blaine's whine and dragged his lips down Blaine's chest. When he laved at a nipple, Blaine gasped and arched up, his fingers grabbing onto Steve's arms.

"Careful," Steve warned, slipping out of Blaine's grasp and retrieving the t-shirts left on the bed. He rerolled the one Blaine had looked at earlier and set both on Blaine's palms, stroking Blaine's wrists until his fingers stilled. Keeping his hands loosely holding Blaine’s, Steve resumed his ministrations, sucking and nipping at a sensitive peak, only moving to the other nipple when Blaine’s breath shuddered out of him. He felt Blaine’s hard length pressing against his torso, felt Blaine’s hips strain up.

Steve moved lower, lips and tongue charting a course down Blaine’s abdomen and hip. He quickly divested Blaine of his underwear and moved between Blaine’s thighs, parting them and settling low so he could press kisses down Blaine’s legs and back up, Blaine’s uneven breathing and quiet moans spurring him on. 

Blaine’s body stilled, tense and breath caught, when Steve unhurriedly flicked his tongue along the base of Blaine’s erection. Blaine shuddered again as Steve slid his tongue up the shaft and, surrounding the tip with his lips, languidly swirled his tongue over the head. Blaine’s hips bucked when Steve sucked, drawing a breathless moan that turned into a whimper as Steve took more of Blaine into his mouth.

Steve sucked and laved earnestly now, taking him in deep, Blaine’s fingers squeezing hard at soft cotton and body arching and restless with pleasure against his weight. Steve dragged lips and tongue along Blaine’s length as he retreated torturously slow, only to bob back down and suck hard. By the third time, Blaine was panting and thrusting shallowly into Steve’s mouth, head pressed back into the pillows and eyes tightly shut.

“Steve,” Blaine groaned when Steve retreated to just the tip, the air chilling his saliva-wet penis causing him to shiver as Steve sucked and licked hungrily at the slit. Steve sank back down, the sudden warm wetness and broad tongue sliding along his penis sending his orgasm flooding through him. With a strangled moan and a final thrust of his hips, Blaine’s body tautened and he spilled into Steve’s mouth. Steve swallowed greedily, the resulting pleasured aftershocks causing Blaine’s hips to jerk haphazardly as he whimpered.

The mattress dipped and shifted, and Steve pressed wet kisses to Blaine’s wrist and fingertips, carefully prying them from the roll of fabric. He repeated the treatment on Blaine’s other hand before he shifted again, gently laying atop Blaine and resting his head against Blaine’s still heaving chest. He smoothed his palms lovingly up and down Blaine’s arms as the heartbeat under his ear slowed.

"You are getting way too good at that," Blaine whispered, lifting his head to kiss Steve’s hair.

"Practice makes perfect," Steve murmured. Quiet laughter rumbled in Blaine's chest and he wrapped a leg around Steve’s thigh in an attempt to pull him closer. Steve sighed, warm breath ghosting over a nipple eliciting a tremor from the man under him.

"Is it my turn?" Blaine asked idly after a long moment, shifting his hips and hearing Steve's sharp intake of air as his half-hard cock rubbed against Blaine's inner thigh.

"Can we--," Steve trailed off, slipping his fingers across Blaine's bandages.

"Can we what?" Blaine prompted gently after a beat. Steve took a deep breath and lifted his head.

"I want you inside me," Steve confessed, eyes flickering away briefly before meeting Blaine's kind expression. "I want to know what it feels like, what you feel like."

Blaine slid his hand from Steve's grasp and caressed Steve's cheek, smiling when Steve's eyes closed with a sigh. Blaine craned his neck and pressed a light kiss to Steve's lips.

When he laid his head back down, Blaine earnestly said, "I don't know if I can right now, but I'd love that."

Steve's expression lightened, a smile tugging at his lips.

"I think you can." With that, Steve thrust his hips against Blaine's, his erection bumping Blaine's still sensitive cock.

"Oh," Blaine gasped out, tipping his head back as Steve slotted his cock alongside Blaine's. Steve took a shuddery breath, pressing his forehead to Blaine's shoulder. "Okay, yeah," Blaine agreed breathlessly as arousal flared low in his abdomen. Steve loosened Blaine's sudden hold on his neck and soothed Blaine's arm at his side. Blaine tightened his leg around Steve's thigh, and braced his other leg with a foot on the bed, giving in to the urge to tilt his hips against Steve's rocking motion.

"What about--?" Blaine cut off, arching up when Steve reached between them and circled his long fingers around both their cocks. He stroked once, twice, then pulled back with a groan, arms bracing himself over Blaine so he could slow his racing heart.

"I--," Steve said, looking simultaneously aroused and embarrassed, "I can do it. I've been practicing."

"You've been practicing?" Blaine asked incredulously, despite the tightening in his abdomen.

Feeling Blaine's cock harden further next to his own, Steve's expression relaxed and he said lightly, "Like I said--."

"Practice makes perfect," Blaine finished with a wry chuckle and an amused smile.

"I wanted to be good at it," Steve reasoned earnestly.

Blaine surged up, kissing Steve enthusiastically and saying between hungry kisses, "You are amazing, and so very hot."

Steve acknowledged the compliment by slipping his arms under Blaine and rolling them so Blaine lay draped over him. Blaine whined in protest, pouting when Steve nipped and kissed at his chin and held his wrists at their sides so Blaine could not prop himself up. 

Blaine retaliated by grinding his hips against Steve's, eliciting a moan. He took advantage of Steve's momentary preoccupation to get his elbows under him and rock back down. Steve kissed distractedly at Blaine's neck and jaw as his arousal grew with each thrust, feeling Blaine hot and hard against him.

Steve shifted and wrapped a leg around Blaine's hip, arching up when Blaine pressed down. They quickly found a rhythm that had both panting, mouths slack and lips brushing occasionally in haphazard kisses. When Steve's leg tightened around Blaine and Steve gasped, Blaine paused.

"Steve?" he rasped out, blinking his eyes to focus them on Steve's face--his tightly closed eyes, the way his teeth bit into his lower lip, and the way he tipped his head back as he thrust his hips up despite Blaine no longer moving.

"Don't stop," Steve ground out. When Blaine's eyes trailed down Steve's arm taut and straining, and disappearing under him, Blaine groaned.

"How many?" Blaine asked, desire coursing through him.

"Two," Steve breathed out, eyes still closed.

"Can you do three?" Blaine questioned further. Steve managed a jerky nod and Blaine held his breath as Steve rocked under him, hissing then gasping. Blaine kissed Steve hard, swiping his tongue over teeth and coaxing them to release their hold on Steve's swollen lip. He sucked at the abused flesh and swallowed sounds he had never heard Steve make before. Blaine balanced his weight on one elbow and traced the tense muscle along Steve's arm and torso. His fingers itched to move lower, to wrap around Steve's hard cock and push him over the edge.

"Your hands," Steve managed to warn despite his tremulous breathing and erratically thrusting hips.

"I know," Blaine said gently, fondly, more in control of his desire now that Steve is at the forefront of his mind. "I just want to touch you."

Steve stilled then, his breathing coming in uneven puffs as he opened his eyes. Deep blue met hazel eyes shining with so many things--adoration, awe, desire--and Steve slid his hand from under him, blindly wiping it on an abandoned rolled-up t-shirt and wrapping his arms around Blaine. Blaine settled fully atop him, not even bothering to wonder how Steve had opened the lube and began fingering himself without Blaine's notice. He rested his forearms on either side of Steve's head and ran his fingers along Steve's hair, leaning down for a kiss that had their tongues swirling around each other.

"Do you want to turn over?" Blaine asked when they ended the kiss.

"I want to see you," Steve insisted.

"Then be on top," Blaine suggested, ineffectively hiding the pleading in his tone. Steve surged up to kiss Blaine, rolling them again and reaching for the lube. Keeping his grip loose around Steve's shoulders, Blaine gasped when Steve wrapped a slick palm around his erection and stroked up and down. And when Steve straddled his hips and pressed down just so the tip of Blaine's cock rested against his hole, Blaine's breath hitched and his grip tightened, the pain in his fingers waning in comparison to the tight heat sliding over him.

Steve was silent, eyes closed and slowly yet determinedly lowering himself on Blaine's cock until he was as far as he could go. Moments passed in stillness, both breathing harshly as Blaine's hands ventured down Steve's arms to soothe the hard muscle and fisted hands that rested on strong thighs.

"Steve?" Blaine prompted. Steve blinked, focusing on Blaine's concerned expression. He took Blaine's hands tenderly in his own and laid them palm up above Blaine's head, his own fingers wrapped securely around Blaine's wrists. He leaned down to kiss away the worry and both gasped as the movement shifted Blaine inside Steve.

"How are you so tight?" Blaine wondered aloud, craning his neck to kiss desperately at Steve. Blaine tentatively thrust up, careful to go slow and shallow, repeating the motion when Steve returned the kiss, moaning and gasping with every tiny movement that Blaine made. With each thrust, Blaine grew bolder, planting his feet on the mattress for leverage. Soon enough, Steve was pressing his hips against Blaine's in tandem, his forehead resting on Blaine's shoulder and his ragged breathing warm and wet against Blaine's skin.

Pleasure spiked through Blaine as he strained up, feeling the give and pull of Steve's muscle around his cock, feeling Steve's erection against his abdomen.

"I can't--," Blaine whimpered out, his fingers flexing as his hips met Steve's again.

"It's okay," Steve murmured into his shoulder, rubbing his thumbs soothingly across Blaine's wrists as he pulled up again. Blaine's hips chased Steve's, his back arching high and changing the angle just enough to make Steve cry out. Blaine withdrew and thrust up again. Steve muffled his yell in Blaine's shoulder. "So close," he choked out.

Steve rocked down desperately now, his rhythm lost to pleasure as he struggled for release. Blaine matched him as best he could, his own orgasm building with every thrust that sheathed him deeper, every thrust that had Steve stifling his cry against Blaine's skin.

Steve came first, his body stilling as the orgasm crested and his cock throbbed with release. Blaine rocked his hips down and up, and Steve's hips jerked, the pleasure spiking again. Buried deep inside Steve, Blaine followed soon after, the muscle clenching around his cock sending him over the edge. Steve moaned at the new sensation--Blaine's pulsing cock and the warm wetness spilling inside him eliciting aftershocks of pleasure.

Steve was silent save for the shuddery breaths, chest heaving and forehead still pressed to Blaine's shoulder. Blaine turned his head, kissing lazily at the arm still holding his and letting his legs fall limply to the mattress. Steve whimpered at the movement, at how Blaine partly slipped out of him, and pressed his hips down to keep Blaine inside him. Blaine tipped his head, kissing crookedly at Steve's hair.

"I'm not going anywhere," Blaine assured. Steve took in a shaky breath and lifted his head. Blue eyes, wet with unshed tears, met his. Blaine's heart clenched and he twisted his wrists out of Steve's hold. He cupped Steve's face with his gauze-wrapped hands and reached up to kiss him gently. With thumbs caressing cheeks, Blaine pulled back and looked at Steve as steadily as he could. He stifled the words on the edge of his tongue, battering against his brain to get out--words that seemed out of place after so little time together and would surely be dismissed given the events of the last 24 hours. Instead, he repeated, "I'm not going anywhere."

Steve blinked, shifting so that Blaine was no longer inside him, then reached for the discarded t-shirt and carefully cleaned Blaine up. When he was done, he laid down beside Blaine, head resting on Blaine's chest while an arm wrapped securely around his abdomen. Blaine hooked his leg under Steve's and ran his hands lightly over Steve's back and arm.

"Steve?" Blaine prodded.

"I'm okay," came the quiet reply, though he curled his body closer around Blaine's. Steve took a deep breath then added, "I didn't know."

"Didn't know what?"

"That it could feel like this."

"Like what?"

"Like home."

*

A soft electronic beeping roused Blaine from sleep. He looked around, careful not to jostle Steve, whose head still rested on his chest and limbs remained atop Blaine, but found nothing that could make such a sound. Before he could reach for his phone to check the time, the beeping stopped.

"Good morning, Mr. Anderson. I apologize for waking you at such an early hour."

"Jarvis?" Blaine whispered, eyes scanning the room again. Despite his effort at quiet, Steve stirred.

Without lifting his head, Steve asked, "What is it Jarvis?"

"Mr. Stark requests your presence at breakfast. If, and I quote, 'You're not too tired from your nighttime activities.'"

"What time?" Steve inquired as Blaine retrieved his phone and lit the screen so both could see it--7:15.

"Eight o'clock."

"Thank you, Jarvis."

"Of course, sir."

"Jarvis?" Blaine spoke up.

"Yes, Mr. Anderson?"

"It's good to hear your voice."

"And yours as well, Blaine."

Steve nestled his head back on Blaine's shoulder, yawning. He traced fingers down Blaine's arm to ghost over the wrapped fingers loosely holding his cell atop his abdomen.

"Do they still hurt?" Steve asked.

Blaine hummed, flexing them under Steve's gentle touch.

"Not too much," Blaine answered. When Steve was silent, his fingers still ghosting over Blaine's hand and wrist, Blaine spoke up, "How old are you?"

Steve's fingers stilled and his whole body tensed. Blaine reached for him before he could retreat, soothing his own hands gently over the arm that still held him.

"Twenty-eight."

"And you've been twenty-eight since when?"

"Last year."

"No, I mean--," Blaine faltered, shaking his head. "I sound like Bella in Twilight here."

Steve lifted his head, confused, "I don't--."

"You weren't around when that started," Blaine murmured. "I'll explain it later," then asked, "how old are you exactly?"

"I'm twenty-eight, Blaine," Steve repeated with a hint of amusement.

"But you were around for World War II."

"I was," Steve confirmed. "And then I was frozen."

"For how long?"

"Seventy years."

"Did it hurt?"

"I--," Steve began, only to stop and think for a moment. "I don't really know. It hurt to wake up."

"Did you want to wake up?"

Steve's gaze flickered away from Blaine's.

"I don't know," he answered somberly.

"Steve." Blaine pressed his palm to Steve's jaw, urging the man's gaze back to his. Steve sighed at the gesture, closing his eyes briefly before letting the sadness and uncertainty that still plagued him give way to calm as Blaine's warmth soothed him. He laid his palm gently atop Blaine's hand, holding him there.

"I'm glad I did. I wasn't at first, but now I am."

*

They got out of bed slowly, both reluctant to leave the refuge, but they fell into an easy pattern of getting dressed and washing up. When Blaine finished, he watched Steve wipe the last of the shaving cream from his face. Steve sent him a side-glance and quirked an eyebrow in question.

“Why don’t you stay here?"

"You mean, why do I stay in that tiny apartment in Brooklyn when I could have all the comforts right here?"

Blaine nodded. Steve hung his towel and set his shaver back on the shelf. He reached for Blaine's hand, careful to not hold on too tightly, and tugged Blaine out of the bedroom.

"I want to show you something," Steve offered as they made their way across the dim common area. Blaine remained silent, briefly squeezing Steve's hand in response.

Steve opened the front door with a wave of his hand across the panel and walked across the hall to another door. The lights immediately flickered on when the door opened and they stepped in, Blaine's eyes falling on the punching bags and various gym equipment scattered around the room. But Steve pulled him to the side, toward a corner holding a drafting desk and an easel, the warm light glowing overhead so different from the florescent lighting in the rest of the spacious room.

Steve stopped at the edge of the lighted area, watching Blaine carefully as he took everything in. Blaine distractedly slipped out of Steve's hold and stepped closer, eyes darting from the papers piled haphazardly atop the table to the charcoal and pastel pieces littering the edge and in the little hanging box at the bottom of the easel, the artfully drawn lines and smudges peeking out from the pile. But it's the large piece of paper hanging on the easel that made Blaine's breath catch--rough cream colored paper filled with sketches of him--him playing the piano at the bar, him sleeping, his smile--all unfinished but no less stunning in their detail and realism.

"This is who I was before," Steve said softly, coming up behind Blaine. "Stark Tower, all this technology, they remind me what I am now. My place, the old neighborhood, even though it's different, reminds me what I was."

Blaine looked back at Steve, took in the wistful and regretful look on the other man's face.

"Do you miss him, the old you?" Blaine asked hesitantly.

"Sometimes," Steve answered honestly. Blaine turned, laying his hands over Steve's chest. Steve's arms naturally wrapped around Blaine's torso.

"He's still in there."

"Maybe."

"As long as you remember him, he's in there." Blaine tapped his finger over Steve's heart for emphasis. "And I'd really like to get to know him just as much as I know you."

Steve let out a breath, one he had not realized he was holding. He leaned down, kissing Blaine tenderly, only to deepen the kiss when Blaine wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled them closer together.

Blaine pulled away reluctantly, giving a last quick kiss when Steve made a sound of protest.

"We should get to breakfast," Blaine advised with an understanding smile. Steve sighed but let go of Blaine, only to find his hand again as they headed out of the room and toward Tony's private dining room.

*

"What, you fit in a morning quickie?" greeted Tony upon Blaine and Steve's entrance. Bruce sat next to him, cup of coffee in hand and full plate in front of him. He rolled his eyes at Tony's words and Blaine had to stifle his smirk. Steve gave Tony a hard look, which he returned with an innocent one.

"Just one?" Blaine insinuated.

Tony turned to him, surprised, "Oh, really?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Blaine snarked back.

Tony chuckled, waving his fork, and quipped, "I like you again, shortstack."

Bruce's hand disappeared under the table and Tony jumped.

"Ow," Tony griped, rubbing his side.

"Behave," Bruce directed. With a smirk, Bruce lifted his hand, holding what looked like a silver pen but when he pressed a tiny button, a spark flashed. Blaine didn't bother hiding his amusement this time.

"I thought we agreed you wouldn't use that thing anymore."

"You agreed. I didn't."

"It's been more than a year since I tried that. And it was just a pen."

"You should know better than to annoy a hulk. And a scientist."

"Yeah, yeah," Tony muttered. He waved his fork again, this time to the table behind him. "Help yourself."

Steve shook his head at the exchange, though his lips twitched up when he and Blaine exchanged a look. They filled their plates and sat down.

"How's Pepper?" Blaine asked.

"She's recovering nicely," Bruce supplied. "Still in the infirmary for another day or so though."

"And she's already complaining about all the work not getting done in her absence," Tony grumped, though his lips curled into a soft smile.

"I'm sure she'll get everything back in order in no time," Blaine commented.

"She's determined to be up to full speed in two weeks."

"What's in two weeks?"

"We're hosting a benefit. A thousand dollars a head. It's all very elaborate and pretentious," Tony said glibly. "You should come."

Blaine hesitated, looking down at his plate before answering, "I can't afford that."

"No worries, you can be my guest."

"Stark," Steve warned.

"I couldn't take a seat from a potential donor," Blaine protested.

"Steve's coming, aren't you? I sent you a memo. Come together. Or better yet, play for us. You can be the entertainment."

"Stark," Steve prompted again, this time glaring at the other man.

"No, seriously, think of it as a gig. Play for an hour then enjoy the rest of the night. We'll pay you."

"You must already have someone."

"We'll cancel. Come play for us."

"I--."

"You'll get that Lafitte-Rothschild," Tony cut in. When Blaine looked unconvinced, Tony added, "Pepper would love it."

Blaine looked at Steve, finding annoyance as well as adoration and something else Blaine could not name. He took a deep breath and turned back to Tony.

"I'll do it."

*

"Steve?" Blaine called out as the door slid shut behind him. He set his guitar case and bag by the dining room table, flexing his fingers with a wince. He'd just come from sound check and rehearsal with the band, just come from playing the piano and guitar for more time than he'd done since the alien attack and his fingers, though healed, were still sensitive. Steve had protested last week when Blaine had tentatively plucked at his guitar strings with still wrapped fingers, brokenly playing a simple melody as tears welled in his eyes. But Blaine had insisted it would be fine, had insisted that he would play mostly the piano at the benefit, which would be easier on his still healing hands. Steve had relented, albeit reluctantly.

"In here," Steve's muffled voice reached Blaine's ears. Blaine made his way into the bedroom, and to the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe. Steve combed his hair, dressed only in boxers, his skin damp from a recent shower. Blaine stared, not caring to hide his admiration of Steve's broad chest and strong shoulders, the way the muscles in his arms moved or how his abdomen tightened under his gaze.

When Blaine's gaze returned to Steve's face, arousal and embarrassment glinted in equal measure in the bright blue eyes, along with curiosity.

"I like watching you," Blaine said simply.

Steve huffed a chuckle and resumed his task.

"That's usually my line," Steve noted.

"Well, you are the Jack to my Rose."

"Who?"

Blaine laughed, saying amusedly, "One of these days, I'm going to sit you down and we're going to watch every pivotal movie from the last six decades."

"That could take a while," Steve said with a shake of his head.

Blaine stepped up behind Steve, going up on his toes, hooking his chin over Steve's shoulder, and wrapping his arms around Steve's chest.

"I don't mind," Blaine returned with a smile on his face. Steve squeezed the hand resting over his heart and Blaine pressed his lips to the warm skin of Steve's neck before withdrawing to get ready for the benefit.

*

Showered, shaved, and coiffed, Blaine headed for the closet, where he had hung his suit the night before. However, when he entered the small room, he stopped short. Steve stood in front of the mirror, tugging uncomfortably at the collar and cuffs of his tan military uniform as if it did not fit despite the fact that the tailoring followed every curve perfectly from his shoulders to his thighs.

Steve turned his head, the miserable look spurring Blaine to action. He moved closer, lifting his hands to tug at the lapels and smooth the collar. Steve's hands settled on Blaine's hips.

"I didn't know you were going to wear this," Blaine said, fingers flitting over the various pins as he took in the symbols and insignias for the first time.

"Tony thought it was a good idea," Steve huffed out.

"Do you not like it?"

"It's not that," Steve said with a shake of his head.

"Then what?"

Steve didn't answer, instead tipped his head so his forehead rested against Blaine's shoulder. Blaine soothed his hands over Steve's tense shoulders.

"Hey," Blaine said softly, rubbing his cheek against Steve's. "It's who you were before. And it's part of who you are now. It's okay to miss it or regret it, or not want to think about it."

Steve lifted his head, adoration and gratitude clear on his face.

"How do you do that?" Steve marveled.

"Do what?"

"Know what I'm thinking."

"Because I know you."

*

Steve and Blaine arrived downstairs just as the benefit began, and Blaine slipped away with a squeeze of Steve's hand. Steve hovered awkwardly around the edges of the large ballroom, the crowd growing and the din of conversation increasing. But no amount of noise could distract him from the sound coming from the stage--the melodious notes of the piano and thrum of a bass, the occasional snare or the soft dinging of a cymbal, and the sonorous tenor coming from the young man behind the piano. His eyes remained on Blaine, eyes closed and bowtie askew as he felt every word he sang, much like how Steve had first seen Blaine in the bar only a couple months ago.

"He's something else," Pepper said, stopping at Steve's side. She handed him a wine glass, which he took with a nod of thanks.

"That he is," Steve affirmed.

"You're lucky to have him."

"I am."

A gentle hand on his arm had Steve looking down at the woman. She smiled.

"He's lucky too."

Steve's gaze flickered to Blaine, the song ending to a smattering of applause. Pepper looped her arm through Steve's.

"Come on, dinner's about to be served."

*

Steve, along with Blaine, sat with the rest of the Avengers--Tony shooting glib remarks left and right, Pepper pleased but still looking a touch tired, Natasha stunning in floor-length red, and Clint and Bruce looking uncomfortable in their suits but still in high spirits.

The benefit seemed a success, if the cheerful conversation and laughter filling the room were any indication. Bidding on the live auction items was enthusiastic and the emcee announced that they had reached their goal of $100,000 at the close of the proceedings. Dessert was served and Blaine returned to the small stage for a few more songs before the evening ended. Steve sat back, watching Natasha dance with Bruce and Clint in turns, and Tony shifting his chair and coaxing Pepper to lean against him in a rare display of care.

His attention was drawn back to the stage when Blaine spoke up.

"Thank you for a wonderful evening. It's been a pleasure." Blaine paused as polite applause sounded. "This is my last song for the night, and I'd like to dedicate it to someone special."

Steve's gaze flickered to the table, ignoring Tony's smirk and Pepper's sentimental smile. As the clear melody began, Steve could not resist looking back up.

_Everybody wants to find a love,  
somebody, somebody who will always care.  
But we get locked up in our own worlds,  
with feelings and secrets we're afraid to share._

_But all I have to do is see you smile,  
or maybe, just maybe if I brush your hand;  
something happens I cannot explain,  
and somehow, oh somehow I can understand._

Despite the distance, Steve was sure Blaine was looking at him, singing only for him. Steve was transfixed, as he always was when Blaine sang, but more than ever before. He felt his heart beat in time to the slow melody, felt the world disappear and his breathing slow as Blaine's voice lulled him into comfort and security, and love.

When the song ended, Steve merely sat there, lost and yet feeling as if he had just been found. Rousing applause shook him out of his reverie, and when he looked back at the stage, Blaine was gone. Steve stood as the band took up another song, a slow but cheerful tune that led many in the crowd to say their farewells. A few couples took to the floor. Tony and Pepper stood to do their duty, leaving Steve to scan the room. He let out a breath when Blaine appeared, walking quickly over to him. Blaine stopped in front of him, a hand extended and a tentative smile on his lips.

"Dance with me?"

Steve took the offered hand easily, and Blaine's smile widened. They made their way to the dance floor and Blaine was quick to set his hand on Steve's shoulder, leaving the other man to settle his hand at Blaine's waist.

"I'm out of practice," Steve prefaced before looking down at his feet and leading Blaine in a simple waltz. They shuffled awkwardly for a few steps, but fell into a rhythm soon enough. Blaine laughed, still smiling. Steve sighed contentedly when Blaine slid his hand up to his neck, fingers sliding through the hair at his nape.

"I didn't get to say earlier, you look amazing," Blaine complimented. Steve looked at Blaine then, watched the emotions flashing bright in Blaine's eyes. He leaned in and kissed Blaine's forehead then.

"I love you," he said reverently, lips brushing warm against Blaine's skin. Blaine's fingers tightened in his hold and at his neck as he tipped his head up. Reaching up, he kissed Steve hard, slanting his lips to press closer and parting his lips to suck hungrily at Steve's tongue and lip. Blaine dropped all pretenses of dancing and wrapped his arms around Steve's neck, sighing into the kiss when Steve did the same around his waist, lifting him so his toes barely touched the floor.

When they parted, breathless, Blaine murmured against Steve's lips, "Love you too. So much."

Steve pulled back, a rare smile gracing his lips and Blaine beamed back. Another song started up, and Steve loosened his hold just so Blaine found his footing again. They slowly shuffled in their little spot of dance floor, unaware of anything around them. Blaine hummed and sang snippets of lyrics into Steve's ear and Steve, content and calm, closed his eyes and reveled in the warmth and safety he felt in Blaine's embrace.

*

They made their way back up to Steve's apartment much later, having danced until they were the last couple on the floor only to be joined by Tony and Pepper, followed shortly by Natasha, Bruce, and Clint.

Blaine had crowded close to Steve in the elevator, planting lazy kisses on Steve's jaw and flicking his tongue along the shell of Steve's ear until Steve was gripping tight to Blaine's hips and dragging him into a desperate kiss.

They exchanged heated kisses along the way, making their journey to the privacy of Steve's bedroom much longer as Steve would push Blaine against the wall of the hallway when Blaine teased his tongue along the edge of his uniform collar or Blaine nearly collapsed under the flaring arousal as Steve rubbed his palm over his clothed and growing erection.

Steve gave a frustrated growl as Blaine wickedly thrust his hips against his as they stumbled into the front door, and swung Blaine into his arms. Blaine giggled and continued to kiss and suck at the skin along the column of Steve's neck, belatedly realizing that Steve had stopped by the bedside.

"What?" Blaine asked idly, laving delicately at the now reddened skin as Steve slowly set him down.

"It's the Lafitte-Rothschild," Steve answered.

"The wine?" Blaine turned his head to look down at the little table, large wine bottle set off to the side and two glasses beside it.

"Yes, and it's the 3-liter."

"Tony," Blaine said simply.

"Stark," Steve confirmed. Blaine looked at Steve's stern expression and burst out laughing. With mock indignation, Steve reached for Blaine and kissed him silent. The kiss turned into several, each one more wanton than the last. Clothes fell to the floor and the two tumbled onto the bed.

They never got around to opening the wine that night.


End file.
